


And lifted honest eyes for you to see

by robokittens



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Implied Relationships, Internalized Biphobia, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, i'm so sorry steve i love you i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3155807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders, suddenly, if he can dance. He did all right with the USO after all — this body can do all kinds of things. It's constantly surprising him; he's constantly surprising himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And lifted honest eyes for you to see

He catches himself humming, and makes himself stop.

He can hum pretty well, now. It's "Star-Spangled Man With a Plan," more often than not, because as God-awful as that song may be it's the only one he heard for about four months, and it is catchy, he'll give them that. He's got something else stuck in his head tonight, not sure what — something that played in the bar last night, probably. He can't remember any of the words, but he's got the tune. Ma used to say he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, and he's… well, he'll never be a singer. But he's better, now. Better at a lot of things.

Definitely not better at holding still than he ever was. Worse, maybe. 

—

Bucky had tried to sneak up on his bad side, tap Steve on the shoulder before he could even hear him coming — it's a dirty trick, but Steve doesn't have a bad side anymore. He'd caught Bucky's wrist without even looking and held it there, never breaking stride in his conversation with Morita. He's never been out west — finally shipped out, and he's still on the Eastern Front — and Jim's talking up California like it's a land of magic, even if there's something Steve can tell he's talking around.

"Let's go see the Pacific," Steve says, and Bucky snorts. He rolls his wrist out of Steve's grasp and comes around to stand at his side.

"Sure," he says. "Fight our way through Germany, chase Hydra across Russia, and then go kill some Japs. No offense."

Jim shrugs. "None taken." He doesn't sound offended, but Steve elbows Bucky in the side anyway.

Bucky throws an arm around Steve's shoulder, companionable. It's a strange feeling, the way Bucky has to lean up and into him just slightly, the way Bucky's arm doesn't wrap all the way around him like it used to, doesn't pull him in. It used to be Bucky's hand could reach around almost to his collarbone, but now it's pulled to sit on his shoulder. Something inside him twists, just slightly, but he ignores it; he ignores it again when Bucky laughs and says "But sure, let's do it. It's a date. Jim, you think your folks will let us crash at their place?"

—

"Go back to sleep, Buck," he says gently.

Bucky's grin is still sharp despite the light sheen of sweat on his brow and the bags under his eyes. "Hard to sleep with you starin' at me," he says. "Woke me right up."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Doctor said you're not getting enough sleep."

"Doctor said I'm fine."

"Doctor said you're _healed_ ," Steve corrects, and he can tell Bucky's trying for a scowl but with the sleep still in his eyes it looks more like a pout.

Bucky lays back down and pulls the thin sheet up to his chin. "Get out then. Doctor didn't say to keep me under surveillance, did he?"

He's not sure what to say: You used to do this for me, or I was worried, or something worse. He's as surprised as Bucky, more surprised probably, when what slips out is "I just missed you."

Bucky's eyes widen just a little — Steve can tell even in the low light — but he just laughs. "Knew you always used to watch me sleeping. It's all right, Rogers. I get it. I'm somethin' to look at."

"Oh, shut up." Steve grins, and hopes Bucky can't see the blood rising in his cheeks. He stands up and takes a step backward (neat, balanced) toward the front of the tent. "Go to sleep," he says.

Bucky sits up enough to salute and then flops back down, left arm dangling off the cot in a way that looks pale and fragile, suspended in the light coming through the tent flap. "Aye aye, Captain," he says, and lifts his arm to flip Steve the bird.

—

Bucky is alone in Medical and Steve is alone in his Captain's quarters and Steve does not, does not, think about either of these things as he folds his pants neatly and sets them on his chair, as he hangs his jacket over the back of it and runs his hands across the shoulders, smoothing the fabric. 

He sits on the edge of his cot and stares at his feet, still in his socks to ward off the cold. His feet are bigger, his legs are bigger. His cock doesn't feel any bigger as he wraps a hand around it — but his hands are bigger, too; maybe he just can't tell.

He thinks about Peggy. He thinks about the curl of her hair, and how well she wears the brown of her uniform. It's more flattering on her than anyone else he's seen. It might just be that he thinks that she's beautiful. He thinks about pushing her skirt up over her hips and peeling her stockings down, about kissing her throat, about —

It feels disrespectful. He can't. If she wanted to, if she came to him, he would — there are so many things he would do. But thinking about her behind her back like this… He can't. He tucks himself back into his underwear and lays down in bed and stares at the ceiling until he falls asleep. He doesn't think about anything.

—

He's running laps around the camp. It's still three more days until they can move out, and he's tired of planning, tired of strategizing, tired of standing still. He doesn't begrudge the days off — the men (his men! He's really a captain, now) deserve it. Bucky deserves it. 

He jogs past the soldiers' quarters, past rows of tents and groups of men, talking and playing cards, a crowd surrounding two with fabric wrapped around their knuckles boxing each other. He jogs past Medical, where Bucky isn't anymore. He jogs past the mess, and Bucky's sitting outside. Steve comes to a stop.

"Hey," he says. Bucky looks — he looks a lot better. There's some light in his eyes again, and the dark circles under them are nearly gone. He says "You look good" without thinking about it, and Bucky laughs.

"You look awful," Bucky replies. He knocks his shoulder against Steve's when Steve sits down next to him, crossing his legs and settling in the packed dirt. Bucky leans in against him, just briefly, and pulls away just as quickly. He wrinkles his nose. "You _smell_ awful."

"I still perspire," Steve says dryly.

"Can't fix everything." Bucky shrugs philosophically and returns to shredding the grass at his feet.

Steve looks at him, at the nervous twitch to his steady sniper's fingers, the slight hunch to his shoulders, the red of his lips and the way the sunlight reflects off his hair.

"Guess not," he says.

—

"I'm only in for a moment," Peggy says. Her tone is brusque and businesslike, and she doesn't quite smile but there's something in the quirk of her mouth that makes Steve's heart seize in his chest like it hasn't in — It feels like years.

He can't speak around her, sometimes; he had more confidence at ninety pounds than he has now, faced with Peggy's gleaming propriety in the midst of the dust and dirt. "Would you want a drink?" he manages. "While you're here?"

She levels him with a glance. "You can't drink, and I probably shouldn't. They've got me driving across the Alps or some such at 0500." 

"You're the one driving?" 

"Well," she says coyly, "You never know."

It's barely over a week since he's last seen her, last spoke to her, but it feels like ages. He wonders, suddenly, if he can dance. He did all right with the USO after all — this body can do all kinds of things. It's constantly surprising him; he's constantly surprising himself.

She doesn't bring it up, and he doesn't ask.

—

It's the middle of the day. He'd hardly expected to find Bucky napping anywhere, much less his own cot.

"Sorr', sorry." He's bleary as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. "Needed somewhere a little quiet. Didn' think you'd mind."

"I don't," Steve says, and averts his eyes from Bucky in his bed. "That's — it's fine. Are _you_ okay?"

Bucky laughs, the dark tone that Steve is beginning to realize has replaced the lighthearted chuckle of their childhood. "I'm good. I think all this sitting still is wearing me out. We need to get back in the action, y'know?"

He swings his legs over the edge of the cot and pats the space next to him. Steve doesn't stare at his feet, the patched socks on the packed dirt floor, doesn't even look. He takes a seat gingerly, mindful of the extra weight he now carries. "Oh, I know," he says. "I'm going stir-crazy."

"Nah, you always were crazy." Bucky grins, rocks back a little, and it's not so weird now that Steve's looking down at him. His lips are parted, just barely, and for a moment Steve thinks he could just lean in and —

"Shut up," he says. It's too slow and there's no force behind it, but Bucky's grin doesn't falter. 

He thinks, again, that he could just lean in, that he could reach over —

But he doesn't, doesn't touch him, doesn't put a hand over Bucky's hand or on his shoulder or in his hair. Doesn't think about Bucky asking, _is it permanent_? or the curve of his lips around those words, around Steve's name. Because it's fixed now. The serum made him taller and fixed his lungs and he can stand up straight and see just fine and — He's fixed now, everything's fixed. He knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> so spit-polished-steel made [a really wonderful, affirming post](http://robokittens.tumblr.com/post/106960593300/spit-polished-steel-steve-rogers-realizing-that) and i, of course, responded to this by going "right but what if it made steve rogers _sad_?" because i have some kind of a problem.


End file.
